The Plotless Tale of the Amazing Sassy
by Chavva
Summary: A fledgling Mary Sue is sent on her first field assignment. Her task? Wreck havoc. Her methods? Uncanny. Her Past? Darker and Edgier. Her Destiny? The Ultimate Chosen One. Her determination? Fierce. Her success? See for yourselves! Parody.


Hello, hello and welcome. Warning: This is a Mary Sue Parody. Everything is about her. And the what she does to Merlin.

Credit goes to Me, I and Myself, My Self-Insert, TVTropes for being a never ending source of inspiration and all the Mary Sues out there for the same thing. And the BBC. Obviously.

Updates will be irregular, but hopefully you'll find it worth your while.

/~/

**Summary:**

_Soliloquy Alabastaria Stephania Sapphiria Yasminelia. Sassy for short. Fresh out of NARM, probationary Mary Sue. She's magnificent, she's drop-dead gorgeous. And she's fiercely ambitious. When she is chosen to be the leading Sue in the pet-project of Director Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, star of 'My Immortal' and living legend to all Sues, Sassy is determined to make it a success. Merlin fandom beware of her fierce determination! Darker and edgier pasts, The Ultimate Chosen One, Character Derailment and Canon Defilement are just some of the thing laying in store for you! Thus starts..._

**The Plotless Tale of the Amazing Sassy**

**Chapter 1: It's always Monday's**

_Of NARM, Wangsting in Iambic Pentameter, Vanishing Body-Mass and Being Called out by a Legend _

Hello. My name is Soliloquy Alabastaria Stephania Sapphiria Yasminelia. Yes, I know. It's a bit of a mouthful, but it's an occupational hazard I'm afraid. I used to be called Jane Smith, but of course I had to change that when I started my job. My friends, who aren't blessed with an eidetic memory call me Sassy for short. My other friends, who, like me, are blessed with an eidetic memory, still call me Sassy. For one, even to us lucky ones, my name is a tough one to remember. For another, I am told that it suits me quite well.

My occupation, you ask? Why, I work at the Ministry of Fanfiction, Department of Bad Writing, Subdivision of Self-Insertion. Many people seem to think that the official denomination for my profession is 'Mary Sue', but that's just a rank. My rank, as of recent.

After surviving three strenuous years of continuous study at the prestigious National Academy for Riting Monstrously (NARM, for short), six months of boot-camp with drill-sergeant-instructors pounding on us and five make-overs, I finally graduated to probationary field agent. Three Cheers for Me!

Not that I've done any actual field work in the seven months I have been working at the SSI. No, probationers like me get to be cooped up in a tiny office with two desks, three working computers and one broken one, as well as four other overworked Mary Sues and _watch_. Apparently, our training is insufficient in preparing us for the big bad world of even worse fanfiction, so we need to observe senior field agents, take notes and analyse their work. Have you ever tried spending ten hours a day, seven days a week, watching the antics of a Mary Sue in an Imagination Crystal? Well, if you haven't, let me tell you:_ it's worse than that_.

Oh, don't get me wrong. For the first three days or so, it's pretty funny. Had us in raptures. After the first three days, you start thinking: Well, that's all nice and well, but haven't I seen that somewhere before? After five days, you start suffering from Obsessive Compulsive Cursing Disorder. Two days later, Rachelline Sabriane Lucraticia, nee Rose Miller, was admitted to sick bay with symptoms of early onset Chronic Hairpulling Syndrome. She's always had a bit of a weak stomach, poor Rachelline. Graduated top of her class in all the theoretical subjects, but just barely scraped by in all the practical stuff. Last thing I heard, she requested to be reassigned to Uber-Human Resources.

In any case, after our first three weeks, we were all crying tears of blood. Not sure whether it was our brains or our eyeballs melting, but it was one of the two. Of course, after two months we were all sufficiently Mindnumbed. I guess that's kind of the point.

But even so, one would think once we were all sufficiently vaccinated against Excessive Groaning, they would put us to work. One thinks wrong. Another five months of _watching_ followed. So maybe it isn't surprising that on that fateful, rainy Monday morning, I was less than eager to get to work. I never sleep in, because that's just something a Mary Sue doesn't do. That Monday I sure wished I had retained that skill. I arrived dreadfully on time, looking absolutely scandalous in my sodden white blouse and tight pencil skirt. It had been raining for five days straight and one would think that I would have remembered to grab an umbrella. In fact, I did remember, but standard regulation is that you never, ever are to carry an umbrella if you're wearing a white top – for purposes of sexual tension, obviously, belligerent or otherwise – and all my other clothes were still at the dry-cleaner's.

So there I was, entering our dim little can of an office, muttering quiet curses under my breath. Before I even had a chance to stop dripping on the creaky wooden floor, I was swept into an enthusiastic hug by Sebastian. He's a Marty Stu, in case you're wondering. It was decided by the Office of Obligatory Sexism that gender equality just wouldn't do in our line of work, so male and female Agents go by different designations. The Association for Complaining about the Under-Representation of Males in Self-Insert-Fics filed a complaint, but as of now, nothing has been done about it.

Generally, Marty Stus are trained to be creatures of action and suffer from a massive overload of testosterone. They always safe the day and they never show any emotion other than anger, disdain, indignation or anything that is not, in the most old-fashioned and caveman-ish sense of the stereotype considered 'manly'. Only minor infractions to the Rule of Cool, which governs their work-lives, are allowed.

Sebastian is one of the few exceptions that specialises in male Purity Sue-ism. Frankly, that's a good thing, because he'd have a hard time pulling the Jerkass act, anyway. Any attempt at it would instantly be ridiculed by his looks.

Sebastian is one of those scrawny types, with big, baby-blue eyes framed by luscious lashes, outrageously fluffy golden curls that just scream at you to stroke them and a pout to die for. To put it in a nutshell, any girl that sees him instantly experiences this mad urge to wrap him in a cuddly blanket and take him home to cocker him up with elaborate home-made cooking. He's a natural Purity Stu if ever you saw one and you just can't resist him, especially if he puts on his puppy look. Just he was doing now as he peered up at me through his long golden bangs. And of course I, being a girl, couldn't possibly bear to destroy his innocence by uttering another coarse curse when he stepped on my toes in his eagerness to greet me.

"And good morning to you, too" I said, finding myself giving him one of my radiant toothy smiles in spite of my bad temper. Sebastian smiled back – also radiant and toothy – and settled down on one of the uncomfortable chairs, drawing his knees to his chest and hugging them. Oh, how I wished for a fluffy blanket that moment.

"You're wet," said Sebastian, wrinkling his delicate nose disdainfully.

"White blouse," I explained. Sebastian gave me a sympathetic look. I think he has made it a point to never own anything white. If only I had had the foresight to do the same. Or to not put off doing my laundry till the last possible minute during the rainy season.

"But you look absolutely stunning," he added, taking in my appearance with an expert look. If I was anything short of the gorgeous creature that I am, the noise that I made in response might have been most accurately described as a snort. _Of course _I looked absolutely stunning_. _Looking absolutely stunning under any and all circumstances is, after all, a Mary Sue's bread and butter.

"So do you," I replied nonetheless. He blushed charmingly, which made me want to eat him up, every delightful bit of him. I think it's some kind of primal instinct.

"So, whom are we observing today?" I asked, lazily skimming through the papers on our shared desk. He shrugged and gave me one of his sheepish grins.

"Isn't it all the same, really?" he asked. I sighed. Unfortunately he was spot on.

"I've got great news though," he chirped, rocking to and fro on his chair. It creaked loudly and he stopped, casting it a worried glance. I didn't blame him. We used to have four chairs, one for each of us in the office, until Agatha's chair fell apart under her. Even though she's thin enough to be anorexic. Of course she isn't, she eats like a starved horse. Fortunately, none of us puts on weight no matter how much we eat. It used to be that we all had to puke our guts out whenever we came back from assignment and follow a strict diet while on duty. Then somebody in the Department for Applied Phlebotium had some spare time on their hands and developed those practical little tattoos that banish all excess body-mass into ether, where it is broken down by some kind of practical ether-dwelling radiation or other. In case you're wondering, my tattoo has the form of an endless knot. Oh, belt up, I know it's somewhat lacks in individuality, but you can never go wrong with a classic and as our instructors told us, the more generic you are, the better you do as a Sue. Now, Agatha, she just had to go and get herself a laburnum tree. I mean, what kind of self-respecting Sue wears their sense of self-irony on their skin, huh? Obviously we'd all be brain-dead within a year if we didn't poke fun at ourselves every once in a while, but you don't have to make it quite that obvious. But of course, Agatha, being the big-time Wilde-fan that she is, couldn't resist. These days she tries to pass it off as a weeping willow, but I know better. Besides, how is Hamlet better than Dorian Grey? If you ask me, displaying signs of overt literary knowledge is somewhat OOC for a Mary Sue. Then again, character derailment is an art in itself, so it might actually work out for her. And I really shouldn't talk, I strictly refused to have pink eyes with golden stars for pupils. That looks creepy on anybody, no matter what the stylists say.

For my part, I'm perfectly satisfied with my natural light amber. You may snub that as boring, but it really goes well with my long, honey-coloured flowing mane and the light bronze of my skin. Which is another thing that I wasn't ready to part with. Who the hell wants to have white hair in their teens? Huh? Or bleach their skin until they look like a bloody corpse? Taking aside the fact that skin-bleaching hurts like hell. And it didn't even affect my grade in my So Beautiful It's a Curse classes. I'm just that gorgeous, you see?

"Are you quite done with your inner monologue?" asked Sebastian. I startled up.

"I'm sorry," I apologised ruefully. Sebastian waved it off with a careless motion of his hand.

"Bah, don't worry about it. I know how it is. Yesterday, I compulsively wangsted about my dead bunny rabbit for three whole hours. It died when I was ten but apparently, I never got over the senselessness of it and now I'm considering suicide."

"Well, that's just the usual stuff, isn't it?" I asked. Sebastian grimaced.

"It was in purple prose iambic pentameter from start to finish." He shivered at the memory and I winced in sympathy.

"Ouch," I said, in lack of a better comment.

"Ouch indeed," he muttered, "You have no idea how sore my brain was after that."

"Mhm," I agreed. So far I had not yet started speaking in impromptu rhymes.

"You said you had great news?" I finally asked, steering the conversation away from the dangers of being a Sue. Sebastian nodded eagerly.

"You won't believe this! **I**," he announced with pride, "am off on assignment in the Being Human fandom!"

"No!" I gasped, nonplussed.

"Yes!" Sebastian beamed.

"NO!" I exclaimed, a wide grin spreading on my face.

"YES!" Sebastian repeated, his voice squeaking with enthusiasm, "I'm going to be a tortured vampire with a gentle soul!"

"AHHHH! THAT'S SO GREAT!" I grabbed both of Sebastian's hands and pulled him up. Alternating between rapturous hugs, squeals and more hugs, we jumped up and down in circles.

"Oh my god, ohmygod, ohmygodohmygod." I placed a big, fat kiss on his forehead. He smiled up at me, breathless from the exercise. We might have gone on squealing and jumping for ages, had not Hikari Rose Nightshade come in after about five minutes. She paused at the door, regarding us with a dubious stare.

"Sebastian has his first field assignment!" I informed her proudly. Hikari's small pearly teeth glittered in a smile.

"Omedetoi!" she said, giving Sebastian a hug. It left wet traces on his pale green shirt. Apparently, she also had had the great idea of wearing white that morning. In her case, it was a tank-top. She didn't wear a bra beneath it, either. Hikari always wanted to specialise in Tzu-ism and I have to say, she couldn't have chosen better. With her shiny black rapunzel hair (with red strands) her almond-shaped emerald eyes and porcelain skin she was the paragon of Japanese elegance. Looking not a day older than fourteen (though well equipped, if you catch my drift), she would do marvellous as a prodigious military tactician. I was fairly sure that she would soon be snatched up by the Naruto fandom, especially since she knew lots of gratuitous Japanese and looked drop-dead stunning in fishnet. Even more drop-dead stunning than the rest of us, I mean.

"The American rip-off or do you think you're actually good enough for the British original?" she asked with a sudden sneer. Sebastian's eyes filled with tears at the harshness of her tone and I cast her a reproachful glance. She clapped a hand over her mouth and ducked.

"Oh, gomen nasai. I've been practising Jerk Sue and..." she muttered apologetically. Sebastian sniffed and nodded.

"It's just that I'm hidoi at being a woobie and I'm just too impulsive to pass as an Emotionless Girl and it just somehow _takes hold of you and doesn't let go!_"

"We know," I said, patting her shoulder. Sebastian sniffed and nodded a second time.

"She's doing inner monologues now," he said, pointing at me.

"And he composes requiems for his bunny rabbit in iambic pentameter," I added, "so a little sneering is quite all right."

"Oh, thank kami-sama. I thought I was the only one," Hikari sighed.

"Definitely not," Sebastian and I chorused glumly. There was a brief silence, then Hikari suddenly clapped a hand against her forehead.

"Kuso, I'm such a baka!" she exclaimed, "Sassy-san, Ebony-sachou is looking for you."

"Don't you mean Enoby?" I asked with a frown.

"No, I think today it's Enobby," said Sebastian. Hikari waved an impatient hand at us.

"Whatever. She's still looking for you." I bit my lip. Director Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way was the head of the Subdivision of Self-Insertion and Chairwoman at NARM. She was also the idol of all young Sues (or Stus, for that matter), the more than text-book example of Mary Sue that we all aspired to be. She had made her début in 'My Immortal', critically acclaimed as the worst fanfiction eva (which we all had been forced to learn by heart back at NARM) a couple of years back and had since risen to well-deserved stardom. What could such an accomplished personage want from me?

"Well, nani are you waiting for, you teme?" asked Hikari harshly.

"Teme is a rude term for you," I corrected her absent mindedly, "You're basically saying 'you you'. Baka is the term you wan to use, or, if you want to really insult me, ketsunoana."

"I know that!" whined Hikari, "but you know how gratuitous Japanese works!"

"You should go," urged Sebastian, "maybe she's got an assignment for you! Wouldn't that be splendid?" Oh, he was such a sweet and gentle kid, bless his soul. I was wonderful, great, invincible and everything else a proper Mary Sue should be, but I was light years away from being personally sent on assignment by somebody as famous as Director Ebony. By the way, I do mean the distance here. No, I had probably made some horrible mistake and now I was going to be sacked. I racked my brains for anything that might have drawn her scorn, but nothing came up. I sighed and shook my head. No use guessing at it. I would know soon enough.

"See you later," I said miserably. I probably would. While I was packing the few personal items I had brought to the office. Hikari gave me a sniff, followed by an apologetic look, and Sebastian raised both hands in a good luck gesture.

Even though I told myself that it was no use, my mind continued racing to find that mistake as I walked down the corridor. I had thought I was doing well. Better than well, in fact. My notes and analysis' thereof had repeatedly been praised by my superiors. Sure, I had complained about the constant watching, but who hadn't? Maybe I should have let them give me those purple eyes with gold stars for pupils. Or at least bleach my skin. I mean, I was really not flamboyant enough in appearance. Gorgeous, yes, but I lacked any generic exoticism. Or maybe I should have worn leather and fishnet more often?

I paused before the door that spelled 'Director of SSI, Ebony (on Mondays, Tuesdays and Sundays)/Enoby (on Wednesdays, Thursdays and every second and fourth Saturday)/Enobby (on Fridays) Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way'. What the Director was called every first and third Saturday was anybody's guess. Today was a Monday, in any case. _It's always Mondays_, I thought miserably. _I should have called in sick_.

Shoving my pounding heart back down my throat, I knocked.

"Come on in," a voice called sadly. I opened the door – and froze. I saw: Director Ebony. Lying on her desktop. Draco Malfoy. Clad in black leather and eye-liner. Sticking his thingy in the director's you-know-what. Furthermore, You-Know-Who, badly disguised as the lead-singer of a goffik band, taking snapshots of them with a one-way camera from outside the window. Sirius Black, doing the same. Remus Lupin, doing the same.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!" roared a voice. It was...

No, not Dumbledore. It was me. The scene had put me right back into 'Re-Enactment: The Classics' class and I had promptly delivered the first line that seemed appropriate. Though, considering that I had just caught my bosses bosses boss literally with her pants down, it might have not been the smartest reaction in the book.

Director Ebony started crying tears of blood down her pallid face. She did it masterfully. Though she kept looking at me expectantly between sobs. Finally she sighed.

"Get on with it, gurl," she prompted me. I shifted on the spot.

"Er...you ludacris fools?" I continued, hoping that she was, in fact, expecting me to get on with the script. Draco Malfoy – or at least the Stu that had been cast as Draco Malfoy in 'My Immortal', I always forget his name, put a comforting arm around the director. I pretended to walk on the spot, all the while muttering rude insults under my breath. Finally, when I thought enough time had passed to reasonably get from the Forbidden Forest to the Castle, I mimed throwing open a door and yelled, in a furious voice, "They were having sexual intercourse in the Forbidden Forest!" I gestured at the 'perpetrators' and cast an expectant glance at Professor McGonagall. Or at least I tried to, because there was no Professor McGonagall in the study. Should I say her lines as well? And what the hell, anyway?

"Fabulous, thank you," chimed the director, straightening her skirt and wiping her bloody tears from her face.

"Yes, I think we should do great during the Posting Anniversary." She smiled sadly at the others. You-Know-Who put the camera in his cloak, gave me a wave of the hand and zoomed off on his broomstick. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin high-fived and did the same. Draco Malfoy drew a hand through his hair.

"I'll practise slitting my wrists then," he announced, "I've been on Supernatural these past couple of years, as a ghost, and I'm afraid I got rather rusty on the bleeding."

"Just remember, we have to jet over to the US and get me a new wardrobe from Hot Topic sometime this week. Mine is hopelessly outdated," replied Director Ebony.

"Sure thing. See ya," said Draco Malfoy and, with a curt nod at me, also left. Director Ebony settled behind her desk and smiled at me. Sadly, because she never smiled in any other way.

"That was a very exemplary reaction," she said in a depressed voice – because that was her normal modus operandi, again. "I'm afraid our Dumbledore is rather caught up with the Lord of the Rings fandom at the moment and he couldn't make it today."

"Er..." I said.

"Well, don't stand on ceremony. Sit down, sit down. I must say, you look absolutely kawai, gurl." I carefully sat down on the edge of a chair and repeated my rather uninspired, "Er..."

"So you are...just wait a second, I know I've got it here somewhere...no...oh for the love of effing-" and she embarked on a string of rather explicit curses.

"Never mind that, I'll just call you Succubus?"

"Urgh..." I said.

"You don't like Succubus?" Tears of blood started streaming down her face again.

"Er...Urgh...That's not what I meant, Succubus is quite fine. I'm just more used to Sassy, but I'll gladly be called Succubus," I hastened to assure her. She beamed at me. In a depressed way.

"Succubus it is then! Well, I expect you know why you are here?" she asked.

"Ahhh..." I said. Oh, bugger off. I'm not usually that tongue tied, but I was sitting across a legend. I want to see you doing any better in front of your idol.

"You don't?" she asked sadly. I shook my head. Director Ebony sighed and drew a small silver knife from one of her drawers. Like a normal person might start manicuring their nails, she started cutting her wrists. I cleared my throat.

"Uhm, Director Ebony, should you be...?" I asked, directing a quizzical glance at her hands. She followed it. She gave me an apologetically sad smile and put the knife aside.

"I'm sorry. Force of habit is a dreadful thing. Now, where were we? Ah yes. I've been hearing things about you, young lady," she said. I swallowed hard as she once again rummaged throught he papers on her desk. Finally she drew out a sheet of paper.

"Ah! Soliloquy Alabastaria Stephania Sapphiria Yasminelia, Sassy for short. Why didn't you tell me that?" I had, but I decided not to point that out. Maybe she might show mercy if I grovelled. Generally, wise-cracking is not a good approach to grovelling. The director was scanning the sheet.

"Graduated in the top five in all of your classes, my oh my, impressive. Of course that's only to be expected of a magnificent Sue, yes. But I see you didn't put down any speciality?" She looked at me with depressed expectation.

"No, Ma'm," I said, "I didn't want to limit myself too soon."

"A wise approach, yes. And you didn't want pink eyes with gold stars for pupils?" I knew it. It was the eyes.

"Or bleach your skin?" _And_ the skin. Why in Heaven's name had I been so stubborn?

"Or white hair?" I knew it. IknewitIknewitIknewit. Let the grovelling begin.

"Ma'm, if you just give me another chance, I swear, I'll follow the stylist's advise to the letter! Just don't sack me, please! This is all I ever wanted to do, ever since I was a little girl, no even before I was born! I'm made for this!" I pleaded desperately. I even let a couple of bloody tears roll down my face. Of course, if my skin had been bleached pallid, not light bronze the effect might have been more impressive. The director shook her head sadly. Oh no, she was going to do it anyway.

"My dear gurl, you seem to think that u r in trouble," said the director.

"Please!" I wailed, "I'll do anything! Anything at...wait, what?" The director pulled out a bottle with a red liquid in it.

"There, you should drink this. I know how all those bloody tears draw on ur reserves," she said in a knowing tone. I took the bottle and uncorked it hesitantly.

"I'm not in trouble?" I asked dubiously. The director shook her head. She was slitting her wrists again, but I decided I shouldn't remark on it.

"Quite the opposite. So far, all of your superiors have given you glowing recommendations. U have sum crazy skillz, gurl." Yes, well. Glowing recommendations and crazy skillz, that's me. I was brilliant, I knew it all along. I took a sip from the bottle in my hands and was hit with a fit of coughs. I had forgotten how weird blood tasted.

"In fact, ur name came up quite a couple of times while I was discussing a little pet-project of mine with Th3 Auth0r. U now who that is?" I nodded quickly. Of course I knew who Th3 Auth0r was. Who didn't? The all-mighty entity rumoured to be at the core of the Ministry of Fanfiction. Subtly directing the flow of every fanfiction ever written, good, bad, mediocre or otherwise. The Uber-Boss. The God of Fandom.

"A pet-project?" I asked, slowly growing hopeful.

"Yes. I am looking for a versatile Mary Sue," _I'm versatile_, "adaptable" _and very adaptable_, "somebody who forms a Spotlight Stealing Squad all by herself," _absolutely me_, "with a darker and edgier past" _I can whip that up, no problem_, "the Ultimate Chosen One" _yes, yes, me, me, me!_ "who can easily defile canon and derail any character." _That was my best class_.

"Interested?" asked the director. Interested? Are you fracking kidding me? Hello-ho, Paradise! Be prepared, world of fanfiction! Here come I! The next, even better, version of Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way!

"I'm your woman!" I squealed, eager to get the job. It was the stuff legends were made of.

"Wonderful! Magnificent!" Director Ebony exclaimed in a depressed way. One of her hands was almost falling off, because she had been cutting her wrist all the while. Never mind that, she'd get better. We always do, us Mary Sues.

"Then u r in, gurl! This project will now be officially called "The Plotless Tale of the Amazing Succubus"."

"Sassy," I interjected. I wanted _my_ name on this, even if I had to kill for it. It turned out I didn't though.

"Yes, sorry. "**The Plotless Tale of the Amazing Sassy**", then."

I jumped up. "Fangs to you Ma'm! I absolutely will not disappoint you, Ma'm!" Director Ebony waved at me good-naturedly. Her hand wobbled dangerously on the almost severed wrist, but I really couldn't care less. I was a made Sue!

"We'll show all those preps!" I jeered and the director nodded in depressed approval.

"Death to the preps," she said in an angry and sad way.

"Death to the preps!" I shouted in absolute elation. Then I froze in mid jump. Which, by the way, is not as easy as it sounds, mind you!

"Ma'm?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"What fandom are we talking about?"

"_**Merlin.**_"

/~/

Love it? Hate it? Want me to go on? Leave a review! No, seriously. _Leave. A. Review_.

Cheers, C.


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